The Flattened Sun
by Avenzria
Summary: Apollo hasn't learned from his mistakes - after combusting the son of Zeus over a silly boast, Zeus sees it fit to punish Apollo by having him serve a mortal... again. Apollo/OC
1. Prologue: The Guitarist

**Author's Note**: Thank you so much to all the people who helped me edit this, especially this story's wonderful Beta, Sorii, and my dear friend Howl. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>Laughter rang out from the fire pit, where a great bonfire blazed. The date was March 16th, 2025. There were only four campers sitting around the camp fire, since it was often quiet during the school year. One of the few benefits of being at Camp Half Blood all year was that the campers got to stay out as long as they pleased. Chiron had no problem bending the rules.<p>

One of the four let out a high pitched giggle. She was Kim Grisby, a daughter of Athena, with her cabin's traditional flaxen hair and smoky gray eyes. She leaned on a delicate black haired girl who seemed to be nodding off. That was Tamra Copeland, Morpheus's first child in over a hundred fifty years. On Tamra's opposite side was one more raven-haired girl, but her sire was no minor deity. The sea lived in Victoria McDonald, but the most impressive personage among them would definitely be the male. He was burly with cobalt eyes and coffee-coloured hair and absolutely detested his given name ("Maxwell" Devoria). He went by Max.

The moon was covered in dark, looming clouds. Its rays barely reached the ground, but the stars were dazzling. Orion the Hunter sparkled against the sky. Just fifteen years ago, there were only a dozen cabins for the twelve great Olympians, but a son of Poseidon changed it all. Since his victory over the ancient Time Lord, Kronos, the children of Hades and minor gods, such as Hecate and Iris were included at Camp Half Blood. There were a lot more campers for that reason and because the Gods now claimed all their offspring - not particularly by choice. The hero who brought the change still lived in New York, married to his oldest friend.

In the present, life was happier and much less tumultuous. Now, worries included who got the last marshmallow instead of who came back alive.

"Jeez Kim," said Tamra, stretching her arms. "You laugh loud enough to wake the dead," a brief reticence followed her words, "I'm going to go to bed guys... I'm falling asleep anyways. Night." With that, Tamra lumbered off into the dark, towards the Morpheus Cabin.

The other three teenagers replied with their individual 'good night's. They remained seated next to the fire.

"Well, she wasn't talking much anyways," said Victoria. "Are the marshmallows gone?"

Max shrugged. "Not guilty. It was Tamra anyways," he chuckled, "she can eat a whole bag by herself and still fall asleep." Any normal demi-god would have a serious sugar rush or at least be out for the night on a bad stomach ache.

"That's our Tam," said Kim, clear fondness in her voice. Kim glanced towards Max and spotted the guitar case next to him. Music would be nice. It was getting boring listening to the crickets chirp. "Hey Max, play something," she suggested.

"Mmm," Max pursed his lips. "I am pretty good.." Being the son of Zeus and the god's only child in camp, his ego was the biggest in the area. Max's pride only inflated when a pretty girl requested music. He loved playing his guitar. Unlike the Apollo kids, who were born with incredible musical talent, Max learned to play with just practice and determination.

"Yeah, play," encouraged Victoria, putting an arm around her friend and slapping him on the back. "Seriously. You're better than the entire Apollo Cabin," she snorted. The rivalry between her and Apollo's Cabin leader was more apparent than ever. The two had been at ends for so long, no one could recount how it started.

Max quickly tuned his guitar. It was his prized possession: a shining acoustic instrument that he had purchased with his own earnings. He strummed his guitar, checking to see if it was in tune. "It's a song I'm learning - Hallelujah. I know a bit of it. It's my favourite song right now." He muttered in the midst of twisting the knobs. After Max was satisfied with his guitar's pitch, he began to strum the strings gently, easing quickly into the comfort of feeling the familiar vibrations under his fingers.

_"I heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the lord..." _

Victoria reposed back into her seat, indulging in the melodic peace. Max had such a calming effect sometimes – so long as he wasn't conceited. It was no secret that Max had a big mouth. His nature revealed itself, especially around the silly Aphrodite girls, with whom he liked to spend copious amounts of time with during the summer. During the year, however, Max was devoted to his true friends.

_"Well your faith was strong, but you needed proof, you saw her bathing on the roof..."_

Kim didn't look away for a second. She watched Max's adept fingers, enchanted by how smoothly they flew across each bar. Kim was a little jealous at the attention he could procure. Any child of Athena knew that only a love for a craft would produce favourable results. Kim didn't genuinely appreciate the fine art of music. She only found pleasure in listening to it.

_"Hallelujah... hallelujah... hallelujah... hallelujah." _

Max stopped. "That's all I know so far. But how was it? Worthy of Apollo's ears?"

Kim said nothing in reply. She believed herself wise to keep her opinions to herself, but the shine in her eyes disclosed her true feelings.

"It was amazing," said Victoria, grinning at her friend. "You're seriously.. like.. the best guitarist I know. Really."

Max smirked - it would be the last time he showed his confident swagger. "I must be _better_ than Apollo."

Those six words sealed Max's fate. The fire suddenly roared and grew to twice its normal height, and the three campers cried out when a figure appeared in the blaze. Out of the fire stepped a young man. He looked no older than nineteen. He had sandy hair and pitch black Ray Bans. He took his sunglasses off with a flick of his hand. Beneath the Ray Bans his eyes smoldered with amber fire, and his mouth was set in an angry scowl, exposing pearly white teeth.

"Apollo," Kim gasped, while her friends stood frozen in shock. "Lord Apollo."

"Looks like someone knows their manners," said Apollo, winking at Kim. "And it seems," Apollo's tone became cold, "that _another_, _mortal_ son of Zeus thinks," his voice rose sharply, "that he can best his brother, the God of music. That just can't be true."

Kim recounted the stories of people who were foolhardy enough to challenge Apollo. Apollo had always been defensive about his position, and each time he was crossed, he won, and his contenders' fates.. well.. they got worse with each of Apollo's triumphs.

Kim's countenance was grim and the dread boiling inside made her knees weak.

"I-I..." Max barely recognized the God in front of him. He'd met Apollo two years ago, at the Winter Solstice. Max remembered how calm and easy-going Apollo had been, and how he claimed them brothers. He even recited an awful haiku about family. Max wondered if they were even the same person.

Apollo cleared his throat loudly and struck out at the air. "I rock at music. Max are you so foolish… yo," Apollo apparently forgot the last syllable, "Apollo is PRO!" He exclaimed the last word with such vigour that ashes spilled out of the fire pit.

No one spoke.

"Answer me, boy." The fire blazed even higher.

Max hesitated. "I didn't mean to insult you, Lord Apollo-"

"Too late for regrets, boy. Play your instrument," in Apollo's hands appeared a lyre that looked suspiciously like solid gold.

Max didn't dare to ignore Apollo's command. He attempted to strum his guitar but his fingers fumbled and their casual assurance disappeared. Only a few, meagre notes flew out of it.

Apollo's laugh was cruel. He began to play his lyre and from it came an exquisite one man symphony. The piece was darkly cheerful. Apollo played for about twenty seconds before dropping his lyre into the fire where it promptly disappeared. He turned to the girls, Victoria and Kim, with a dubiously kind smile.

"Well, ladies," said Apollo, giving the two girls a look that was almost goading them on to say anything but positives about his playing. "I'll let you be the judges. Who was the winner?"

"You, Lord Apollo," said Kim, who was fighting to keep her voice steady. Victoria quickly agreed.

"So, Max," Apollo said, his smile gradually growing wider and the fire increasing its size at the same pace. "Do you know what happened the last time someone lost to me in a competition?" he asked softly. He didn't wait for the petrified boy to answer. "I nearly killed him. I'm _so_ tired of stupid demigods thinking that they can beat me- and I think you'll be a fine example."

Apollo's smile faded. Max's eyes widened with realization and he was about to say something, but Apollo snapped his fingers and Max burst into flames.


	2. Chapter One

**AN:** Wow, I took forever updating. Even I'm surprised at myself. Anyways, I just want to say that I definately haven't forgotten about this story! Hopefully I'll be able to post a second chapter in a month or so. I'm busy even during the Holidays, unfortunately. D: Thanks for waiting!

* * *

><p>A Maserati glinted scarlet in the sunlight. Inside sat Apollo, surfing his black iPod touch for a song to play. Of course, the Maserati wasn't <em>really<em>a Maserati, but it certainly looked like one. It was supposed to be a giant, golden chariot, but literally speaking, it was the sun. According to humans, the sun wasn't actually a sports car, but a giant ball of gas. Yeah, right. What ball of gas had an awesome sound system like his car?

_Aw yeah_, thought a satisfied Apollo, as he selected one of his newer songs, _Bottle and a Gun_. Most of the Olympians agreed that the God of Music should have great taste in his craft, but Apollo's iPod begged to differ. The sinister song began to play.

_"It was once a dark, lonely summer's eve… on the lonely streets of Sunset…"_

Apollo sipped from a large bottle of Coke. The interior of his car was quite impressive with its gray leather seats and a black lacquer dashboard. The windows were tinted, but one could easily look outside. Out the left window was the Sahara Desert, treacherous and massive. Sand dunes as tall as mountains stood in the distance, home to a plethora of reptiles and insects. The right window showed an oasis, one cool paradise located in a living furnace. Apollo didn't feel the weather for two reasons: first, he was a god and could do whatever he wanted with the temperature, and second, his car was so air conditioned that it could have frozen an Eskimo.

Despite being a social character, he enjoyed the Sahara's solitude. The shaky pillars of sand evoked a feeling in Apollo that he just couldn't pin down. The desert itself was a sheer testimonial of the sun and its incredible power.

Although his job was to fly the sun across the sky each morning, it usually took no longer than an hour for him to do so. Using a useful little trick, Apollo was capable of slowing down mortal perception of the sky and even out the distribution of heat accordingly. He tuned into the music, leaning back in his seat, propping his feet on the steering wheel.

_"My clothes are always retro, sexual-like I'm hetero—_APOLLO! COME TO OLYMPUS, RIGHT NOW!_"_

The sudden intrusion caused Apollo to choke on his drink. He rolled up the window and spat out onto the sand, the heat seeping in the car astonishingly fast. Apollo snapped the window shut, but frankly he was more annoyed that Zeus _always_insisted on communicating through radio... Unfortunately though, a summons from the King of the Gods could not be ignored. It confused him as to why he was being called... maybe Zeus didn't think that Apollo was doing his job well?

Apollo started up the engines and roared off into the sky towards New York City.

He left his car parked on 5th Avenue and advanced into the Empire State Building by foot. Apollo dug around the left pocket of his jeans. From the linty abyss, he retrieved a pack of orange flavoured Tic-Tacs and poured them in their entirety into his mouth. He threw what remained of the pack on the sidewalk.

Entering the building, strutting like a peacock, Apollo soon found himself at the doors of Olympus. Before him was a forest of gold and white marble, surrounded by pale yellow clouds. The elegantly paved walkway was abandoned except for the trees alongside it. Their branches were twined with precious metal – silver, gold, platinum. Apollo glanced back and forth between the path and the elevator buttons, making sure no one was watching - the usual gaggle of Nymphs were absent from the scene. He began to furiously mash all of the buttons until every single one was lit up. Feeling very pleased with himself, Apollo ran off towards the throne room.

The grandeur of the throne room was nothing new to him. He remained impartial to it, even though it had been partially redesigned. It turned out that Zeus wanted everything pretty much the same as before except for more statues, pillars, and new cup holders. The designer had little freedom in the end and she found herself constantly wary of refusing to appease any God's particular whim in her design. In the end, only three new statues of Apollo had been erected, the same as all the other Gods, except for Zeus, who received five new statues.

"Hey pops," said Apollo cheerfully, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Apollo made his way to his own golden seat where he sat down and whipped out his iPod touch, about to crank up a game of Plants vs. Zombies. "What's up?"

Zeus sat upon his own throne, a little ways off. Upon the sound of his son's voice, Zeus's gaze moved to Apollo. His father was a sturdily-built man with dark hair and, today, a pale-blue suit. "Apollo, give me your iPod. Now."

Apollo obeyed the order. There was a sickening crunch that made him wince. When Zeus opened his palm, Apollo's iPod was mere metallic dust. Zeus released the remains, sprinkling them onto the floor, and the wind slowly began to carry it away.

Apollo bit his lip. He now began to consider the possibility that this time, Zeus wasn't messing around. He put his hands down on his thighs where he fiddled with the golden ring on his finger. It was emblazoned with a swan. "You didn't have to crush it, Lord Father," said Apollo carefully, "I would have put it away instantly."

Zeus inhaled, and then exhaled deeply, clearly trying to calm himself down. There was no use in pointing out how disrespectful it had been to pull it out in the first place. "Apollo," he began, "where is my son, Maxwell?"

_What a horrid name_. Apollo quickly recounted the story of the previous night, exaggerating the range of Max's rudeness and making sure to leave out a few minor details. Surprisingly enough, he did leave in the part where he combusted his half-brother.

When Apollo finished, Zeus sighed and face palmed. "Apollo, why did you do something so... stupid?"

Mortal children were so expendable… of course, a select few of Apollo's children received special arrows, but it was more for the sake of encouraging competition. Apollo didn't care for many of them, but there were a couple that he genuinely admired. Even fewer in number were those he truly loved. The most beloved had been Asclepius, who was allowed to become a God. He became such a proficient healer and amicable fellow that it was impossible for Apollo to not care for his son.

_And then Zeus killed him._Such an old, deep wound... one that constantly re-opened. Whenever he thought about it, the matter had never felt settled. Yes, Asclepius had challenged death, but did he deserve to die for it? Of course not. Zeus had never tried diplomacy. He resorted to throwing his thunderbolt around. It was the easy way out. Besides, Zeus got away with everything.

"I did it because I was sick of Mortals," said Apollo, "They always claim to be the very best in their gifted talents. They're so foolish. I couldn't stand the boy's insolence, claiming to be better than a God… Tell me, father, that you wouldn't have done the same thing. Besides, it isn't the first time a God has killed one of their brethren's children."

The sound of thunder crashing was deafening to even Apollo's ears. He knew he had said the wrong thing, but he felt no regret.

Zeus stood from his chair. "Unacceptable! You lack humility and respect and even after two thousand years, you haven't changed at all. You're the same, bratty boy that you were from the moment you left your mother's womb," he snarled.

_That's not true. _Apollo's blood boiled hot and he clenched his fist so hard that his nails drew golden ichor from his palm. Still he said nothing. His pride wouldn't get the better of him this time.

"I know just what I'll do with you," Zeus said, "last time it worked for a good four hundred years. Remember Admetus?"

Yes, Apollo remembered Admetus. He had been forced to work as a shepherd for Admetus, an ancient king of Greece.

"I'm going to make you serve a mortal again, my son." _Bingo._"For ten years."

Ten years? That wasn't as easy to laugh off. Apollo's jaw was so rigid that he looked like the Nutcracker.

Zeus waved his hand and suddenly a huge, marble box appeared with what looked like millions of little paper slips. "In here lies the name of every adult in North America," he said. "You will draw a name from it. I expect you to look after that human for ten years. If he or she dies," Zeus's eyes glinted with malice, "I will force you to start all over again with double the time."

Anyone aware of the Greek divinity would know that to cross Zeus was to seal your own fate. Apollo wordlessly moved towards the box and stuck his hand in, rifling around before finally taking his hand out. He had two slips in his hand that read:

_Regina George_

_Marcia Brady_

"Drop one," commanded Zeus. Apollo dropped the first slip and was left with Marcia Brady. Maybe she was the kind of girl he liked - a small, cute, blonde with a nice butt.

After leaving the throne room, Apollo instantly did two things. First, he put on his Ray Bans so nobody could see the fire in his eyes. Then he snapped his fingers, teleporting himself and his car to the outskirts of New York City. It was dark out, but the street lamps illuminated the walkway. There were no automobiles on this street as it was fairly quiet and out of the way. Diagonally from where Apollo's car was parked stood a Monster Donuts with a big, cyan and red-colored sign. It was rare to a Monster Donuts near an urban center. In fact, they were usually eliminated by the Gods themselves when they neared one, but right now, Apollo really could not care less. Besides, Cyclopes were talented bakers.

He leaned against his car, slowly regaining his composure and thinking over the situation. Laughter drifted up the street and two figures came into the light, a man and a woman.

"Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeg," slurred the girl, tromping up the street and stopping in front of a flickering street light. "I don't want to go home."

Apollo studied the girl. She was cute, but altogether nothing worth looking at. She was short, with metallic silver eyeliner and thick lashes. Her hair was very curly and only reached to her shoulders, chestnut in color with auburn highlights. Her best feature was definitely her chest, and she exposed a generous amount in a low black tank top. Apollo wondered how much she paid per pop.

Heavier footsteps, Greg's, caught up with hers. He was a handsome man, out of the girl's league. Beauty was beauty, and it didn't discriminate between genders. To Apollo there was a very thin line between 'male' and 'female'. Besides, for the longest time, men had been so much more interesting and complex than females.

"Marcia, let's just go home," said Greg pleadingly.

_Marcia? _

"But—" Marcia swivelled on her heel. Her eyes met Apollo's; they were a pleasing shade of brown. Her mouth became a very thin line.

"Greg!" she hissed, "LOOK!"

Greg stopped behind her and glanced to Apollo, then back to Marcia. "What?" His tone was terse.

Marcia sauntered over to Apollo and then grinned, but there was a dark glint in her eyes. Apollo recognized the emotion as jealousy and he couldn't help but smile. Cute little humans. She'd never have her own Maserati, so that meant-

"Only old, fat, rich guys drive_ those _cars around here, ya know."

Apollo's pleasure was shattered and replaced with fresh frustration.

"I'm not—" He began, but was cut off.

"NO!" hollered Marcia, pounding on the roof of his car. Apollo quickly pushed her hand away. "YOUR DADDY'S RICH! HE BOUGHT YOU THIS! I BET YOU'RE JUST A PRETTY BOY—AHAHAHA… say, my name's Marcia. Marcia Brady." She paused and winked coquettishly. Instead of looking sexy, she looked like she had Down's Syndrome instead. "Wanna buy me a beer?" He could smell the alcohol on her breath.

Apollo's heart sank. _... Shit. Was this her? _He was supposed to serve _her_for ten years? She was… pathetic.

"Marcia! That's so-"

"Oh, oh! Look Greg, a donut shop!" Marcia exclaimed, pointing excitedly at Monster Donuts and completely ignoring her date. "Take me. And then we can go." Greg muttered an 'okay' and the two left, Marcia's curls bouncing with her every step.

The street became quiet except for the whiz of cars around the corner. Apollo sighed. He should have gone with the other name. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. Snapping his fingers, Apollo's exterior appearance changed to that of a skinny, lanky, bearded man. If that was_ the _Marcia Brady, then letting her get eaten by a monster wasn't an option. Otherwise it would be a gigantic waste of his time.

Opening the door of Monster Donuts, Apollo was once again reacquainted with the familiar design. It was a large parlour styled like an old 60's diner, the dominant colors being red and white. He saw an oblivious Marcia demanding half a dozen classic donuts from the cashier, a large and tan Cyclops, who looked at Marcia as if she was a piece of meat.

"Dude, I'm getting tired here," she said impatiently. "How much-" she paused, as if she forgot what she was saying. "Is a pack of donuts?"

The Cyclops came back to reality. "For pretty lady like you, free." He offered her a grotesque grin and went off to the backroom. Marcia sat back down. She inched her chair closer to Greg's and leaned on his shoulder.

"'Can't believe they have nothing to drink here... what a dumbass." Greg chuckled and put an arm around her.

Apollo's gaze lingered on them. He sat down at the table to the far end of the diner, about ten meters away. Just then, the Cyclops returned sporting a filthy gray apron, carrying a large, magenta box with a pink lotus logo on top. Marcia instantly sat up. The Cyclops stopped at their table where he dropped the box in front of her.

"Cute box," she commented, trying not to smirk.

"Heheh. Yeah. Hope ya like 'em," said the Cyclops. While Cyclopes rarely possessed language proficiency, they weren't stupid. Apollo recognized the box's logo instantly and knew what was inside.

Marcia opened the box. An overpowering vanilla scent exploded from it. She picked up a donut with gusto and took a bite.

"Don't –" began Apollo, but he stopped. A smirk spread on his face. Let the girl fall into the Cyclops's trap. When things got bad, he'd step in. There was no harm in playing with his soon-to-be pet.

"Oh my god! Delicious!" exclaimed Marcia, licking her fingers, reaching for a second donut. Her fumbling fingers dropped the donut and she swore loudly before stomping on it with her foot. She hastily grabbed another one and began to eat greedily. From the corner of his eye, Apollo saw the Cyclops grinning from end to end.

"I'll pass, thanks Marce. If you want we can take them back to your place…"

"I'm not sleeping with you, bro."

"I never asked."

"You should've done it a little more charmingly-"

"Marce, eat your donuts." Greg sighed.

"Don't boss me around," she said in between chews, her lips dusted white from the powder. "I'm a grown woman; I can do what I want, when I want!" Marcia's fist hit the table.

"Mhmm."

She went back to eating, occasionally stopping to lick her fingers.

Suddenly, she cried out. "Greg! I can't move my legs!" her breathing grew louder and more rapid. "I tried to cross them and I…"

"Marcia," said Greg, not sounding very concerned. "I'm sure your legs just fell asleep. Just eat your donuts."

"No, no I actually can't move them!" Marcia's arm twitched on the table and her alarm grew. "Greg I can't move my arms! Help me!"

"I'll help you little girl." Rumbling laughter echoed through the restaurant as the Cyclops sauntered over. His mouth was open, revealing pointy teeth.

"No—no… not you..." Apollo had a feeling that Marcia was beginning to pick up on the Cyclops's intentions. Her mouth froze, but Apollo could see her eyes wildly darting around and stopping on Greg. Finally, Greg seemed to react. Apollo shook his head at the boy's lack of instincts.

"Hey, what's going on –"

"Agapios doesn't like boys!" The Cyclops's hand connected with Greg's head with massive force. Greg was sent flying backwards into his seat – his head had whipped against the hard wall. Blood ran down his forehead.

The Cyclops, Agapios, reached towards Marcia with grubby hands and picked her up around the waist. "Heavier than she looks…" he muttered, hauling the frozen girl. Her pupils stared straight ahead, frozen, but they were still filled with emotion: pure terror.

Time to do something. "Agapios," said Apollo.

Instantly the Cyclops whirled towards the sound and bared his teeth in a ferocious snarl. "Man?" He let go of Marcia, who landed with a thud, straight on her back.

"I am no man." _Snap. _There was a teenager with sandy blonde hair in his place. Tall and athletic, his expression was smug.

"Lord… Lord Apollo." The Cyclops's one eye widened and he fell onto his knees. Cyclopes were remarkable at self-preservation. "Agapios didn't know it was you! Forgive me!"

Apollo frowned. "I don't know if I should forgive you. You called me a _man_... I like to be addressed by my proper rank... you know, God of the Sun, Shepherd of the Light, Wearer of the Golden Sword, Destroyer of Mice..."

"Sorry! S-sorry!" blurted the Cyclops. "I'll give you a ten pack of donuts for free! No cost at all!"

"Hmmm..."

"Thirty packs!"

"You know, as tempting as that offer is..."

"SIXTY!"

Apollo rolled his eyes. "Fine. Oh yeah, I also need something to fix her up," Apollo pointed to Marcia, lying still in her own blood. He hadn't noticed she was bleeding before. "The antidote. You know what I mean," he commanded.

Agapios nodded and scrambled up, then ran off back into the back room.

While Agapios was gone, Apollo strolled over next to Marcia's body. Almost instantly, Agapios returned with a little parcel in his hands. He threw it to Apollo, who caught it. "Leave me," commanded the god, and the shaking Cyclops retreated once more.

"Listen up, you."

Donuts. Marcia saw the sign and felt like a little girl. She ran in with Greg. There was a huge cashier, who probably lifted weights like they were made of jelly. He had hands bigger than her face and he brought Marcia donuts, sugary relics of her childhood. She licked her fingers. It was almost better than beer.

She and Greg were talking and she couldn't remember about what. Then the cashier came back and he put his fat hands on her and picked her up like a baby. Close to pissing herself, Marcia's imagination took the worst turn and she suspected rape, ending in her silencing. She'd be in tiny pieces and raped by some crazy fucker with crazy donuts.

Everything seemed to move so slowly. People moved like drizzling honey. She remembered falling and pain rocketing through her spine. The worst part was that it just wouldn't go away; it lingered, long after she collided with the floor. She lay on the floor, red from her blood._ It was hot and sticky_, Marcia thought, _hot and sticky, like wax, except this was thin and wax was thick. _

She saw the Maserati dude. He was talking to her about something in his hands. She couldn't tell what it was. Maserati touched her on the forehead and she wasn'thot and sticky any more. Her back stopped hurting but she couldn't move. Marcia remembered Greg and his calloused hands, but she forgot him again when the blonde waved his hand in front of her and said something. Marcia caught little, only the word "help" and "ingesting"… the problem was she couldn't move her mouth let alone swallow… she'd choke and die. Coarse fear boiled in the back of her throat and it was hot, just not _hot and sticky_. She wanted to scream and tell the blonde that she didn't want whatever he had in his hands.

It could be another fucking donut. She could pass out.

The only option would be to transfer it mouth to mouth. The guy said something again – he probably came to the same conclusion as her.

Marcia felt hands on her shoulders and she was being moved. The blonde leaned in. It would be an awkward kiss, more embarrassing than the time she kissed Carl Plummet in eighth grade and their braces got stuck together. Marcia wished she'd hurry up and pass out… for God's sake, she had too much beer and a frigging drugged donut. Why was she still...?

The next morning, Marcia woke up feeling fresher than she had in a month. She felt oddly stable, as if she skipped the 'bad hangover' stage. Still, she couldn't remember how she got home after last night... or maybe that was a dream or some sort of hallucination. Whatever. Marcia pushed the thought from her head. She groaned, more out of habit than actual stress, and rolled in her bed, admiring the feel of the sheets. Light streamed in through the balcony and she swore she could smell eggs. Marcia moved to the edge of her bed and reached for her nightstand where she felt the outline of her phone. There was one message on it.

**Today 10:21 AM Greg**it's over man

_Dick,_ thought Marcia, telling herself she wasn't disappointed. _So what if I was a bit tipsy? It's not like he didn't drink._She typed a reply, her fingers forceful on the keyboard.

**Today 11:24 AM Me **yeah whaever.

She pressed 'send' before she noticed the typo and swore loudly. Marcia looked around the familiar room, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. Her bedroom was simple with a white parquet floor and pale blue walls. The only objects in it were the bed, nightstand, lamp, and vanity, all dark brown, except for her duvet and lamp, which were white. To the right of her was the tiny walkout balcony. Only a chair and a foot stool stood outside. Sometimes she liked to read with fresh air around her, or as fresh as the air got in her urban palace.

Stretching, Marcia exited through the door of the bedroom and walked down the hall and turned into her bathroom which was also painted blue. The bathroom and kitchen were the only rooms in the flat that lacked a parquet floor. Instead, they were simply tiled in navy and white.

She looked to the mirror and gawked at herself. Marcia's usually neatly-arranged curls were wild and greasy. Her makeup was smudged from sleeping and dark circles under her eyes made her look like a tanned zombie, but what_ really _caught her attention was the fact that she was in her pajamas and not her date clothes. She noticed a pimple forming on her forehead. Marcia moved bits of her hair to cover it. Deciding to brush her teeth to lose the iron taste in her mouth, she nearly shrieked at what she saw.

The inside of her mouth was covered in bold, greenish-blueish patches. Hastily she rinsed her mouth, but there was no change to the assaulting colors. She gave up quickly and left for the kitchen to grab some food, but she stopped at the corner between her bedroom and bathroom.

_She heard someone humming and smelt... __**burning**__ eggs. There was someone there._

Marcia, more confused than anything, stormed to the kitchen, where she saw the blonde from last night. In different circumstances, Marcia's first thought would have been '_Too young'_, but right now it was this:

"What the hell?"


End file.
